


What Do You Know

by kattebaka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-24
Updated: 2012-05-24
Packaged: 2017-11-05 23:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/412078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kattebaka/pseuds/kattebaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ironically, as a being made of love and devotion, the Angel Castiel ought to know of the troubles that come with love and heartbreak. As fate would have it, however, Castiel is on completely uncharted territory and he finds that there are so many things he just doesn't know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Do You Know

As a divine being, there are few things Castiel does not know. His knowledge is extensive, even among other angels. Castiel would pride himself on this if he were to indulge such things, but vanity is far down on the list of things that he wishes to be remembered by, and he likes to keep it that way.  


Among things that Castiel knows are the obvious things that come with being an Angel of the Lord, such as every language in existence, knowledge of how everything that God has created works, and other rather useful things, including the evolution of the human being.  


Knowledge that Castiel values far more is the kind that he has acquired only recently. Very recently in fact, if you are considering his vast age. He now knows things like where to get the best burgers, and to avoid fast food chains if you want a proper one, or proper fries for that matter. He knows how to oil an engine, and that you can, in fact, fry eggs and bake cookies on the hood of a black Chevrolet Impala on a particularly hot summer day. But he has also learned that this is a nearly blasphemous thing to do to such a beautiful car, and thus this piece of knowledge is strictly hypothetical, useless really. Castiel values it anyway, though.  


However, he is starting to doubt the things he has known for millennia, for example: his brethren’s way of taking orders and carrying them out blindly. Dean helped Castiel with this particular issue, and it’s not so much doubt now as it is a certainty that this is not something that Castiel wishes on the before mentioned list of things that he wants to be part of him. Another thing that brings doubt to his mind is the matter of loyalty. Castiel does not question the wish to stay loyal to God and his commands; he was, after all, created for this. However, Castiel has found other loyalties along the way, the most important being the one he has with the Winchesters. This is a loyalty which Castiel values and loathes simultaneously. In all of his long and unfathomable life, never has loyalty caused as much pain, suffering and uncertainty as this one to the Winchester brothers does now. Castiel acknowledges this and does not regret any of his actions, but it is a curious fact to behold nonetheless.  


One last thing which has Castiel in doubt, distress, and regret, is the one thing he had always thought he would never even consider questionable. The one thing he was created for, and with. Castiel’s doubts in love are puzzling and even frightening, but at the same time Castiel isn’t stupid, far from it even. He is fully aware of how this came to be. How he can now hear the word or see it in action and only feel the sense of yearning and anger surging through his immeasurable being and settle in his vessel’s heart as a dull ache.  
He points it out mentally to himself sometimes, it comes easy to him. Emotions are difficult for an angel to comprehend, but months have turned into years and Castiel has been in touch with humans for long enough to understand simple emotions such as anger, regret, betrayal, disappointment, loneliness, fear, curiosity and love. One might wish for a set of much more comforting emotions, but a life with the Winchesters doesn’t leave one with very many things to choose from.  


Moments doing very little with the brothers are simple enough. In a damp smelling motel room with his two favourite humans and with books scattered over the floor and beds, Castiel is able to determine that, despite his depressing set of emotions he does not wish to be anywhere but here. Love is an easy emotion even in the face of his newfound doubt in it and Castiel loves the two brothers. He loves Dean and Sam dearly and he would do anything for them. Even if this anything is to help them figure out how to seek out and kill a shape shifter in a small town. This town is, for the record, also the town where Dean taught Castiel the difference between diesel and benzine and why a car cannot run on water or whiskey. An angel has absolutely no use for such information, but Castiel enjoys hearing Dean explain and teach Castiel about things that interests him. Castiel enjoys a lot of things about Dean and this is where Castiel’s whole problem with love comes in.  


Because it is true that Castiel loves both Sam and Dean dearly, but Castiel has a special little room in his heart for Dean. It’s hard to tell if Castiel loves Dean more than Sam, he isn’t sure if he does. But it’s a different kind of love that Castiel has for Dean. A silly, fond love, one that he sees in the movies that Dean insists he watches. It isn’t a useful love; it’s actually a very inconvenient love which on occasion can effect his judgement in illogical ways and thus Castiel is wary of it. This doesn’t change the fact that he feels a rush of excitement run through him when Dean sits down beside him, though. Doesn’t mean his fingers don’t tingle when Dean’s fingers brushes his as they exchange folders from the local police. It would be a lie to say that Castiel’s stomach doesn’t pleasantly curl in on itself when Dean smiles or laughs at him; sometimes he even slaps a hand on Castiel’s shoulder or forearm and the angel suddenly feels like throwing things up he hasn’t even consumed. It’s only when he realizes that what he’s feeling is in fact love that he realizes that he’s felt this way for a very long time. It goes so far back that he sometimes wonders if he may have loved Dean this way ever since they first met in person. Or if he maybe even loved Dean from the first time he grabbed hold of him in Hell and pulled him up. Castiel doesn’t dwell on these things. They hardly matter when years are so fickle, so insignificant, when days pass so easily. All that Castiel allows himself to dwell on is the fact that he loves Dean, purely and wholeheartedly. Entirely and undoubtedly far too much.  


When Dean has sex for the first time after meeting Castiel, the angel learns that love is a double-edged sword. He learns it the hard way after conveniently flying into the brothers’ motel room while Dean is in action. Castiel doesn’t see it, only hears it, and he is unnoticed. He recognises pain at that moment, but has flown away before he can start to feel sorry about himself. Feeling guilt shortly after, Castiel seeks refuge on the roof of a Tibetan temple to sort his thoughts out. He spends his time there to come to terms with the fact that while Castiel loves Dean so much, it hurts that Dean will never love Castiel the same way. He spends a lot of the time being furious with himself as well, because he knows that it is stupid to be sad that he cannot have Dean, and it isn’t fair to feel angry at Dean when he didn’t do anything wrong. He wallows a bit and isn’t sure if his vessel is crying or not, it feels dull and chill against his grace and Castiel figures that whether he’s let his vessel cry or not won’t matter to anyone anyway, not even to himself. He doesn’t notice how long he has been standing up there until he hears Sam’s voice calling his name, asking him why they haven’t seen or heard from him for weeks and if he’s okay. Castiel feels humbled at Sam’s concern and a warm thought goes his way; Castiel is in constant awe at the size of Sam’s heart. The thoughts shatter as Dean’s voice shortly after pops in and not so eloquently requests that Castiel fly his ass over to them and help them out with a hunt that has way too many demons for them to handle alone. It is then that Castiel decides to come to terms with his feelings. He knows one thing for sure, one thing that will never change, and that is the fact that he will always be by Dean’s side. Castiel wants Dean to be happy, and he will not be happy with Castiel nor his love. And so Castiel looks at Dean’s face mere seconds later and he knows that for Dean to be happy he will set aside his aching love for him and acknowledge that Dean will never love him, will never be his and that Castiel never really deserved him in the first place. As they later set out for the demons, Sam and Dean in the front seats of the Impala and Castiel in the back, Castiel doesn’t feel very selfless or valiant for his decision. He just feels really, really small.

\--

  


Sam calls him for the third time in only a week and Castiel can tell that it must be a troublesome hunt. He never solves their cases for them immediately, even though he could, because he’s found that the brothers sometimes like the satisfaction of solving the puzzles of their hunts mostly on their own. Castiel lets them with only minimal help. But even so, he’s contemplating just solving this one with a snap of his fingers because Castiel does sometimes like to tell himself that he has other things to spend his time on. Nevertheless Castiel comes to Sam, and the possibility that it might be because Castiel still feels guilty about ignoring Sam’s calls for the year that Sam wandered about soullessly doesn’t escape him. It had been a tough year for all of them and had Castiel not been so stubborn in his effort to stay away from Sam, he would have liked a friendly soul to distract him from longingly watching Dean live his new apple-pie life with Lisa and Ben.  


A long time has passed since that time and things in Heaven and Hell are seemingly calm enough to not be a constant weight on Castiel’s shoulders. It should feel liberating, but it doesn’t, instead leaving him with too much free time and too many other things to worry about. This free time is spent focusing on his constant heartache. Castiel likes to be occupied enough to not think about his disappointment when Dean asks him if he doesn’t have anything better to do after he’s helped with a hunt. But it’s difficult to ignore and it seems that after years of successfully ignoring the constant pain and longing in his heart it has all but exploded into something that now feels like punches in his gut and ice water spilled over his head. Adding insult to emotional injury is the fact that Dean seems to have taken a rather sudden, new liking to the concept of one-night stands and flimsy dates. To be fair, Sam doesn’t care much for it either.  


Because of this Castiel has recently (specifically, two months ago) taken to avoiding Dean. Because of his loyalty to both brothers he cannot truly ignore Dean and he doesn’t really want to either. So he avoids him when they’re around each other. Mostly because the tingling and the butterflies in his stomach that used to come with Dean’s small, accidental touches and his smiles and laughter have transformed into prickling pain, cold blood in his veins and an uncomfortable churning in his stomach. So whenever Dean sits down next to him he will, as subtly as he can, scoot away enough so that their knees won’t bump against each other and he can’t feel Dean’s warm breath on his cheeks when he talks to him. He makes his movements quick and methodical so that their fingers won’t accidentally touch, looks away whenever Dean sends a grin or a laugh towards him and doesn’t feel nor look nearly as interested when Dean tries to teach him things. Castiel assumes that Dean doesn't notice, he cannot see any signs that he does.  


Sam notices. Of course he does. Castiel can see the confused looks he gets from the younger Winchester whenever he scoots away from Dean and the concerned glances when Castiel ignores Dean’s smiles and enthusiastic tales. He doesn’t say anything about it, though, and Castiel is thankful for that. He’s sure he knows how to deal with this and he’s completely sure that he doesn’t want Sam to know about the things that Castiel feels and has felt for his brother for years now. He fears that Sam will be furious with him and that things will be awkward, which Castiel know they would. Sam doesn’t need any more worries than he already has, especially not those that concern an angel being bold enough to fall in love with his older brother.  


“Hey Cas?” is his late greeting when he pops up in the motel room. He’s been in a stupor, Castiel realizes belatedly, but Sam doesn’t seem to mind, doesn’t seem to be in a hurry. Castiel looks around the room. It’s surprisingly clean. There are dirty clothes lying around and the trash bin has spilled over its edges with garbage, but other than that there is hardly anything. There are no books strewn over the table that Sam is sitting by, nor are there paper tossed haphazardly over the floor and two beds. Castiel also notices that there is no Dean in the room. Sam seems to understand Castiel’s unasked question as the angel looks back at the young Winchester.  


“Yeah, Dean’s at the bar down the street. Said he was gettin’ some... cravings and left.” Sam says apologetically and they’re both aware that this means that Dean has gone out to get drunk and pick up chicks. All Castiel can hope is that he will be kind enough to not bring the woman (or women, if Dean is lucky enough. Castiel never really understood the idea of threesomes) inside the motel room. At least not when Castiel is there. The stench of sex makes it very hard to concentrate on not fleeing the room or smiting the woman that walks around the room as if she owns the place, sneaking very lewd kisses with Dean that makes Castiel want to retch.  


Castiel nods absently, and Sam lets it go. When he sees Castiel looking at the table, the room and then Sam the younger seems to smile a little. “What did you need help with, Sam? You have recently been calling me very frequently; I take it this hunt must be one of those ‘pesky motherfuckers’ as Dean calls them?” Castiel ventures because the lack of papers is confusing him and he knows that they had indeed been working on a particularly vexing case.  


Sam laughs at Castiel’s use of “Dean slang” and shakes his head, smile remaining on his features, though it seems a little wistful despite the mirth in his voice. “No, no actually we wrapped up that hunt yesterday and while Dean was out celebrating, I went to the local library for the heck of it. I, uh, found this book about mythical lore in Europe. Or I guess tome is more accurate, “ Sam stumbles as he reaches down in his bag for a very large and very old book and gingerly puts it down on the table in front of him. “Anyway, I don’t know anything about myths and creatures in Europe and I haven’t even been there so I was wondering... I mean, I thought that maybe, since you, being an angel and all, would know lots about this kind of thing. You’ve been all over the world and all so I was thinking maybe instead of helping out with a hunt you could help me figure out this stuff?”  


Castiel feels a distant desire to smile at Sam’s clumsy proposal. He doesn’t, though, but that’s mostly because Castiel doesn’t like smiling very much. He’s well aware that Sam knows enough about European supernatural lore to get by easily, he also knows that Sam could easily decipher this book by himself. But Castiel can also take a hint when it’s given to him and he nods. Castiel gives Sam a fond look as he sits down and just like that Sam knows that Castiel has seen through him and that he knows this was actually just a way to get Castiel to spend time with him. Castiel doesn’t say anything about it as he eyes the book, neither does Sam and that’s just the way they both want it.  


“I’ll tell you everything I know.”  


\--

  


As Castiel had suspected, the evening ends up not being very much about the contents of Sam’s large book at all and more about keeping each other company. The two of them end up talking about everything and nothing. When time passes what the Winchesters call dinnertime, Sam calls a Thai restaurant for takeaway because he was just listening to a story about Castiel’s garrison that he didn’t want to miss. He even orders a little for Castiel because Sam insists that Castiel will like the steamed fish. He does indeed like the pleasant, mild taste of the fish and Sam seems to find much enjoyment in having Castiel like the same food as himself. And since Sam is happy, Castiel is as happy as he gets. He even dares to think he’s enjoying himself, being in Sam’s presence and listening to Sam talk and watching him revel in Castiel’s presence. It is times like these he reminds himself of how much he loves Sam, too. And he sometimes catches himself wondering if Sam loves him in return, even if just a little.  


Castiel is perched on one of the beds with Sam on the other, teaching him simple Enochian phrases on a notepad when a heavy thump comes from the door to the motel room. They both look up abruptly in alarm as more thumping and bumping comes from the door as well as light scraping. The door handle moves occasionally and there are voices and other sounds coming from the other side of the door. Castiel watches as realisation dawns on Sam’s face and he only just gets to catch the younger Winchester slump his shoulders miserably before the door bursts open and Dean tumbles in, woman in tow and his mouth glued to hers in an obscene way, hands roaming all over her in a pace that is almost impressive. The two manage to stumble a few steps into the room before Dean looks up and sees the two on the bed and grins sloppily.  


“We interruptin’ anything 'ere, boys? Wan' us to just do our business in the car or..?” Dean slurs and he’s very obviously intoxicated, it’s a valiant effort in light of that: keeping his focus on his brother instead of the woman who is using the breather to lick loudly at Dean’s ear. Sam lets out a long suffering sigh and groans as he lifts his hands helplessly at Dean.  


“Yeah, if you please, how very considerate of you, Dean. Cas and I were actually just-“ Sam bites out in exasperation, his face set in an expression that does nothing to hide his disappointment and irritation at his brother’s inappropriate behaviour. He gestures towards Castiel on the other bed and turns his head to glance at the angel. Castiel did not stay to hear the sentence through, though. Instead, he has found the edge of a fjord in Norway where he would much rather spend the rest of his evening. Or day, from where he is standing at the moment. Castiel has found that he prefers to go somewhere chilly when he is to cool down. He prefers to go to isolated places with beautiful scenery and heavy wind in order to forget what he sees or just to forget his emotions entirely, if only just for a few days. It is not the first time that this has happened, far from it. Dean has taken to bringing women back to the motel so quickly and so vehemently that Castiel find himself stunted by it and it hurts immensely. Neither Sam nor Castiel knows why this change came so suddenly and why Dean seems to insist on ignoring Sam’s requests that he stop going at it so vigorously. Because it happens so often, Castiel finds it a little embarrassing and silly of him to continuously flee whenever he sees Dean with a woman. It’s childish and cowardly and he’s fully aware of that. He tells himself over and over again that he cannot keep running away like that and every time he manages to convince himself that he will not run the next time, it happens. He did so before it happened this time, too, but every single time the painful stab he feels in his abdomen gets too much for him. He doesn’t know what it is that he feels, can’t put a finger on it. All he knows is that he feels faint and like he has a disease that makes all his muscles pulse with discomfort. He feels nauseous and when his vessel’s eyes start to sting, that’s usually when Castiel can’t take it anymore and makes his escape. It all happens in a matter of seconds, but it’s more than enough for the hurt to ground itself into the marrow of his bones and seep into his grace and make Castiel feel like bursting out of his confinements of blood and bone.  


Usually it takes some time for him to recover, a few days, sometimes about a week. Oftentimes he hears Sam call out to him and ask him to come back and that he’s sorry that Dean is so inconsiderate about his blasphemous acts in front of him. Castiel is perfectly happy with Sam believing that it’s just Castiel getting offended and leaving it at that. Sometimes Sam is persistent and doesn’t just leave Castiel a little mental voicemail. But in the end Castiel never answers any of them and he only comes back when he feels like he’s gotten the hurt out of his system or if the brothers ask him for help.  


With time Castiel has found that as easy as it is to swallow your emotions and make sure no one sees or knows, just as hard is it to pent them up inside without any outlet. Castiel isn’t stupid, he makes sure he gets some sort of outlet. If he didn’t he knows he would just end up being frustrated and volatile. His emotions are still new to him, too troublesome to keep in check and too quick to bubble up and become visible. Eventually they could build up and make Castiel hurt the Winchesters and this is not something he wishes to happen. He doesn’t let anything out in front of the brothers. Not because it’s embarrassing, which, of course, it is too, but because it would definitely scare them off. So instead Castiel just flies off. It’s easier and he doesn’t have to explain himself to anyone when he in his solitude lets his vessel become his outlet and salty water spills from its eyes. He doesn’t do it consciously because honestly he doesn’t know how one makes his body cry, but often when he seeks refuge somewhere after another bout of hurt and loneliness, his vessel takes control and does it all by itself. It feels strange when his body cries. Angels do not cry, but apparently Castiel’s vessel can do it easily and he finds himself comforted when hot tears spill down over his cold cheeks or dribble into the trembling line of his mouth so that he can taste the salt. It’s all a silent process where Castiel sits down on the cold ice, rock or grass, and lets his vessel do the rest. He can keep on going for days if his vessel doesn’t see it fit to stop and Castiel lets it, knows that it’s better if he doesn’t stop it and he doesn’t need water to refill the water supplies or anything other than just sitting there until he can’t be bothered anymore. When he finishes his throat is almost always sore and dry and his eyes puffy and uncomfortable. That’s okay though, Castiel takes his time to let his vessel recover. He is used to it by now. At first the tears had been new and unnerving, but after years of doing it it’s become something of a tradition of his, even though it sometimes still confuses him, and the familiarity of it comforts him the same way as the tears themselves.  


This day is no different from any of the others and as Castiel sits quietly and looks at the beautiful scene of a calm, white sky, clear water, steep rocks and forests in the horizon with blurry vision he can hear the hasty prayer from Sam that makes the cherry on the cake for Castiel’s little tradition. It’s a bit different this time, though, the prayer. It’s not as annoyed and exasperated as it usually is. Sam’s voice is very sad and he is practically begging Castiel to return. Castiel doesn’t, he wouldn’t even if he could. He sniffles a bit instead, only because while the tears are alright he doesn’t really appreciate the snot that comes with them. Castiel listens in silence. Sam wants him to come back because he’d had a good time with him and the angel’s heart swells a little at that. He had had a good time, too.  


Another difference with Sam’s prayer is that there’s a lot of anger in the mix, too. Not at Castiel, but at Dean. It’s very obvious because Castiel can hear the prayer occasionally being interrupted by Sam yelling at his brother. He is genuinely furious at his brother, so much that Castiel feels sorry for Dean because he never actually did anything wrong. Castiel ignores the prayer even then and Sam already knows that Castiel doesn’t ever answer his prayers when these things happen. It doesn’t mean Castiel doesn’t appreciate them; Sam is a good person with an even better heart, it would be a waste if it wasn’t appreciated properly.  


Castiel lies down instead. The tears have dwindled down for now and he lets the breeze dry them off his face. He is not capable of sleep, not the kind that humans know of with dreams and drool and unconsciousness. But even so he can relax; you could call it a trance that he has complete control of. And in this mild weather it’s as nice a time as any to take an angelic nap. Right now it’s slowly getting dark. Castiel will return when light hits his face again. Or in a day or two maybe, depends on when he feels like getting up. There is no rush yet, though, time isn’t something that means a lot to ancient beings and Castiel enjoys watching the sun set over the Norwegian mountains.  


\--

  


A few days have passed when Castiel opens his eyes again. He has been safe up here on his little, grassy cliff because of the sigils he knows he carved into the rock beneath him years ago. He keeps a handful of safe places in stock, all in Castiel’s favourite environments and all with the proper protective sigils permanently carved in places where they won’t be found. He needs his sanctuaries and this is but one of several. The joints in his neck and shoulders pop and protest when he rolls his shoulders and bends his neck. But it was nice to get a break, Sam hasn’t been praying for him since the night he flew away and Dean never really prays much for Castiel at all anymore. The silence has been good for him. The seething agony in his chest from when he came here has dwindled into the dull ache that’s hardly noticeable anymore, his faithful companion actually. There isn’t any sun shining on him at the moment, the clouds have spread to cover the entire sky, making it completely white and giving everything a soft and mild feel. It’s pleasant and Castiel deems it as good a time as any to pop back in to see the Winchester brothers. He does feel a little bad about leaving Sam without a word; it had been pleasant, their evening together and Castiel was grateful that Sam had chosen to spend his evening with him.  


Castiel stands up and brushes off his pants and coat, then pauses for a moment before rubbing the crusty salt off his cheeks so that no one will know. With one last look at the fjord he spreads his wings wide and takes off for the motel room. Naturally it’s not certain that the brothers are still there, but since they didn’t have anything to do when he last saw them, Castiel figures that it’s worth a try.  


He already has his words picked out when he lands in the darkened motel room. But Castiel only just manages to plant his feet on the carpet floor before time seems to go to a screeching halt. It is nothing like that first time. The obscenity is generously laid out right in front of the angel and the sounds toss inside his head, mercilessly amplifying themselves in his grace like a ruthless migraine. Castiel is completely paralysed where he’s standing. He is faintly aware of the look of terror on his face and his slack jaw. His vessel’s eyes are prickling again, the blood in his veins feeling like icicles, but he cannot move, cannot fly or even look away. He can’t do anything but stare even though all of his being begs for him to scream and lay waste to this motel. Castiel’s legs go slack and for a split second he fears that he may fall to the floor. Instead he stumbles backwards and his hip meets with the corner of the table, hard and a strangled sound escapes Castiel’s quaking lips. It could be a cry or a whimper or a sob, even laughter for all he knows and he doesn’t have it in him to feel self-conscious about it. The sound makes Dean turn his head towards it in alarm immediately. His eyes meet Castiel’s not a second after and Dean’s expression changes as if in slow-motion. The alarm in his features changes to shock and soon mixes with dread and then regret and suddenly Castiel doesn’t know anything anymore. Dean’s mouth goes slack, then moves, open and close, like a fish. It seems like an eternity where time is unmoving and Dean and Castiel’s eyes are glued to each other before Dean grits his teeth together and furrows his eyebrows. Anger seems to flood Dean’s entire being at that moment, his face scrunches up in fury and compunction, shoulders set and bowed head, his gaze never leaving Castiel.  


Then his yell explodes into the quiet room. “What the fuck are you doin’ here!?” Dean screams and Castiel flinches and shrinks in on himself. “Get the hell out! Get the fuck outta my sight, Cas!”  


Castiel doesn’t leave. He doesn’t do anything. His breath is shaky and coming out too hard from his nose. He knows that his hands are twitching, itching for him to escape, but he can’t seem to do a thing. Dean roughly pulls a blanket over to cover himself, his gaze still angry and accusatory as he heaves a breath for another holler.  


“Didn’t you fuckin’ hear me? Out! Leave, you dumb shit, leave me alone!” Dean’s voice is so loud now that Castiel can feel his face wince a little, but the desperation in the other man’s voice surprises him and his face looks more like the face of hurt and shame, even pity or maybe fear, than it does anger now, though Castiel could be mistaken.  


Immediately after Castiel feels rather than hears something zip past his ear, a sharp shattering noise comes just after as glass hits the wall behind Castiel.  


“ _Scram!!_ ”  


And just like that the angel snaps out of his stupor and time kicks back in gear. Too fast, in fast forward and Castiel can feel himself lunging away, his wings out and in use before he has time to think. He throws himself haphazardly out of the room, unaware of where his wings are taking him. When he lands he is disoriented and only realizes that he didn’t get very far when he almost makes impact with the Impala.  


“Cas? Cas, what’s going on? What’s wrong? No! No wait don’t g-“  


The world is immediately in disorder before the angel’s eyes. He sees nothing, has no clue where he is or where he is going other than far, far away. All he can hear are the depraved noises and all he sees are the visions of bare skin against bare skin. His head is pounding and he feels sick. He doesn’t sense the rough landing as he falls, down, down, down, hits rock, rolls and slides until he’s completely still somewhere dark and damp. He has no idea where. His entire being is racking with something that isn’t just his vessel’s hot tears and somewhere he can hear himself scream.  


\--

  


Time passes.  


How long, Castiel doesn’t know. It’s the same darkness all around him and he cannot keep track of the days (Weeks? Years?) as they pass by. His shelter is unguarded, no sigils or symbols to keep danger away and ward off harm. Castiel finds he doesn’t really care much about that at all.  


It is easy for him to ignore the prayers that are constantly buzzing in his head. His thoughts are fuzzy and everything is dull, but he is vaguely aware that Sam is tenaciously praying. He doesn’t hear the words, but he’s familiar with the voice. After a while (or after a long time) Dean’s voice joins Sam’s. Castiel doesn’t answer, but he feels his eyelids twitch the first time he hears Dean. Castiel isn’t bitter or angry with him, in fact he doesn’t feel much at all. Yet somehow, he also feels incredibly much, enough to make him wish he had stayed the emotionless angel he used to be. But right now that doesn’t matter. His throat is raw and hurts, Castiel doesn’t know how long he’s been screaming, but it was far too long for what his vessel could endure. The prayers are still a constant in his head, they are drowning the terrible sounds from that night and they lull Castiel to into his familiar, angelic slumber. Eventually the prayers decline. Castiel knew they would, so it doesn’t surprise him when long stretches of silence sneak their way in between the prayers from his boys. From the Winchester brothers. It is only when the intervals start to feel unendurable and when the memories of that awful night makes the urge to scream creep dangerously close being unbearable that they start anew, suddenly with renewed vigour. He never even noticed that the prayers comforted him before they'd started to dwindle. They’re different, though, Castiel can tell. It’s simple to discern verbal prayers from the ones that are spoken inside one’s head. These prayers are all strictly non-verbal and also strictly Dean. At first Castiel doesn’t listen to them at all. It turns into a dull sound as if it was muffled by a wall. Eventually they turn more persistent, louder. They’re pleading, Castiel can hear it clearly. It’s as if Dean is shouting inside his head and Castiel can’t do anything but listen to them, can't tune them out. They vary very little, always mostly the same things over and over. “I’m sorry. Please come back. Come back, come back, come back.”  


Despite the pleadings Castiel lets more time pass. A faint thought says his delay could just be because of the hit he had taken when he first got here. There’s truth to it since he had indeed taken a beating when he landed, but the wounds and broken bones have already healed long ago and Castiel knows that he’s only staying here because he doesn’t want to deal with anything.  


\--

  


He is still lying on the hard, rocky surface when a new prayer seeps into his consciousness. It’s Dean again, his prayers steady and distinctive. This one doesn’t sound desperate or sad, though. It is wistful if anything, mostly just calm and pleasant, not loud at all. Only just above a whisper, like someone speaking quietly in a silent room, careful not to make any too loud noises.  


“Hey Cas. Not sure if you’re listening anymore, I hope you are, but there’s no fire or anything. I was just, y’know, wondering if maybe you’d wanna come and hang out sometime? Kind of miss havin’ you around, Sam and I. We’re staying at that motel, the one with the pond in the parking lot? Same room and everything. So, uh, pop in if you feel like it, okay? See ya, Cas.”  


Well... that was different. Castiel sits up and only now notices how uncomfortable it is on the rocky floor. His whole body is stiff and he rolls his protesting joints. He sits there for a moment, quietly and plays Dean’s prayer over in his head again. Castiel barely manages to hesitate before he’s met with a vaguely familiar, dim motel room and two medium sized beds. Castiel remains quiet and doesn’t move. The room is silent; all he can hear is the faint sound of crickets and a gentle breeze from outside the open door.  


“I’m out here.” a voice calls from outside the room. When Castiel moves he can see the outline of Dean’s form, leaning on the railing of the slim gallery just outside the motel room. The sky is dark and Dean is looking at the sky. Castiel is unsure how to feel about seeing Dean again, so he swallows down all that he can of it and walks outside next to Dean, who throws Castiel a fond look. Castiel is dreadfully aware of how terrible he must look from having spent this entire time in some cave, dirty, unsteady, tired, with old, salty tears crusted on his cheeks and hair ruffled beyond recognition. Dean surely notices this, but fortunately he doesn't comment on it, just tilts his head ever so slightly in greeting.  


“Heya Cas, it’s been a while, huh? Like, what, weeks? A month? It’s good to see you in one piece.” Dean says and grins a lopsided grin, his tone mild. He’s hiding something in his expression, Castiel can easily tell, and Dean isn’t stupid, he knows that they didn’t part on good terms the last time they saw each other.  


Castiel doesn’t say anything, though. Just looks up at the sky and the countless stars that decorate the black ceiling. Dean turns his head to look at the stars, too, and they share an almost companionable silence for a few minutes.  


A sideways glance shows Castiel that Dean is smiling. Castiel doesn’t return it, but he silently treasures the soft, pensive smile on Dean’s lips. “I always felt the stars were really something, y’know?” Dean begins and for moment he seems to hesitate as he shifts on the balls of his feet. “Kinda sad how people have a tendency to never really appreciate them. I like 'em, though. When I was a kid I always thought that if I looked hard enough I’d be able to feel them looking back at me. Feels nice to believe that you have something watching over you when you’re a little shit with a craptastic life.” Dean laughs at this, but Castiel sets his mouth askew and ponders a bit. For a little while Castiel rests his gaze on Dean, but the young hunter isn’t looking back at him so he shifts his gaze back to the stars.  


“I never put much thought into the stars at all. Too many small ones among the other bigger, much more beautiful stars. It's a mess.” Castiel says but Dean shakes his head resolutely, a sympathetic smile on his lips as he does so.  


“No man, that’s where you’ve got it all wrong. It’s the smaller stars that are the really awesome ones. See, they might seem really damn small from here, but that’s because they’re so far away. It’s so hard to reach their light that you don’t really know just how bright they are. And we’ll never ever know, but compared to that big ass one over there, that cute little thing right there could be a thousand times stronger, a million times prettier. The night sky wouldn’t be worth anything without all those little babies scattered all over, that’s what I’m thinkin’. I’ve always liked the small ones the best.” Dean chuckles and quickly realizes that he’s said a lot about something very random so he leans further against the railing and turns so he can look at Castiel with an almost meek expression as if he's just made some sort of awkward love confession that surprised even himself. Castiel doesn’t meet his gaze and wonders if Dean was maybe trying to say something through his little speech. “That’s how I enjoy my stars anyway. Catch my drift?”  


Castiel doesn’t hesitate when he answers, his eyes harsh at the small pond at the parking lot. “Not quite. The stars are blazing infernos, burning up in a constant fire, their only certain fate being that they will eventually burn away and explode. From the ashes will rise new, much brighter stars and the old ones will be forgotten as they are not needed anymore. That’s what I think of stars.”  


Dean’s eyebrows knit together softly and he purses his lips, he looks a bit disappointed. “Your view on stars suck, Cas. I like mine better. I’m gonna keep likin’ the crap out of stars, small ones too. Or... blazing infernos or whatever.” Dean says in a soft voice as he looks over at Castiel. He shifts on his feet again and Castiel isn’t sure if it’s intentional or not, but with the way Dean stands now he has his shoulder pressed lightly against Castiel’s. For once Castiel doesn’t move away.  


It’s a comfortable silence they stand in, watching the stars with their shoulders pressed together, the evening breeze mild and only slightly chilly. There is a faint, blue tinted light coming from the pond and it colours the edges of the Impala nearby with a soft, light blue hue. It goes nicely with the white lights of the stars, reflected on the vehicle’s roof and hood. The crickets are louder outside, but all that Castiel hears are the soft puffs coming from Dean’s nose. He can feel the other man’s pulse underneath the thick fabric of his jacket. It’s beating away rapidly and Castiel vaguely wonders if Dean has been exercising before Castiel arrived to make his heart beat so fast.  


“I know what your deal is, Cas.” Dean mutters eventually, hesitantly, thick and low with trepidation. Castiel feels a rush in his blood and an ice cold force pulling at his insides. He doesn’t show it on his face, but he knows that Dean has been predicting Castiel’s reactions and probably already knows how Castiel is feeling on the inside. So Castiel’s first instinct is telling him to get the hell away from this because he can’t deal with the rejection, not after everything that’s happened.  


Dean immediately reacts when Castiel starts to inch away from him and quickly clamps a damp palm over Castiel’s forearm.  


“No wait a second, Cas, just hear me out here, okay? I think I owe you that much.”  


The hand on Castiel’s arm remains for a while after Castiel returns to his previous position, although with a good inch between their shoulders now. He doesn’t look at Dean. Not sure if he can.  


“I’ve really been fucking up a lot of things lately, Cas. I haven’t known about all this, like this jazz with you, only for this last month anyway, but Sam was nice enough to give me a few hints since he’s apparently so insightful, and had a good, long chat with me after that whole... catastrophe last time I saw you.” Both Dean and Castiel wince a little when he brings that night up, but Dean goes on unfazed. “It was kind of a like a wake-up call, though. And I guess it’s only now that I get just how much I’ve been messing things up. I’ve been seriously hurting you Cas, for a long time even. I get a lot of things now, but this particular thing just makes me feel like shit, y’know?” Dean sighs and Castiel is not sure if he really knows, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s rather stunned, in fact, and at a complete loss of words. Dean makes it easy for him, however, because he’s barrelling on without giving Castiel time to answer anyway. “There’s nothing I can say other than sorry. It sounds really small and stupid, but I really am so sorry, Cas.”  


Dean sighs and continues, “It sorta still baffles me how you see something so intensely in me, though. And for so long even. Don’t think I’m not flattered, though, ‘cause I am. I guess I just sort of... I don’t know, have had some trouble figurin’ out how to deal with it. You’re an angel, and a pretty damn awesome one too, and of course that means your love’s like... a fuckin’ _avalanche_. And, uh, for someone like me that’s just-“ Dean says, his hand finding his neck and rubbing it anxiously, his eyes far away from Cas’ now.  


“Dean, it’s fine. You don’t have to say anything. I know it must be overwhelming, my feelings. I have been trying to keep it secret from you and Sam, but I’m aware that I have been getting worse and worse at keeping my emotions concealed and for that I’m sorry. I never meant for it to bother you, it doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s a weight on your shoulders that you do not need and I don’t mind letting things go on as if nothing was ever different.” Castiel interrupts and as the words tumble out of his mouth, the more they sting when he realizes what he’s saying. It’s true, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. When Castiel looks back up at Dean the hunter is shaking his head at him sadly. He puts a hand gingerly on Castiel’s shoulder and pushes him back against the railing so that they’re face to face now.  


“No Cas, you stupid, selfless son of a bitch. We all know you’re pretty freakin’ far from being okay with that. And anyway I told you to hear me out so just shut up and let me finish, okay? There’s no weight on me, Cas, no big, bad torment because of your emotions and don’t you even fucking dare try to apologize for the way you’re feeling, that’s not on you. And honestly Cas?” Castiel is keeping his eyes pointedly away from Dean as he talks, and when Dean pauses he feels the side of Dean’s index finger nudge lightly against his chin a few times so that Castiel lifts his gaze to Dean. “Hey, look at me when I’m talking, it’s pretty important... Honestly? All I want to do with that whole frickin' force of nature of yours is to drown myself in all of it. Just gobble it all up and lick my lips like a fat little cat. You’ve been too busy feeling bad about your little crush that you’re completely overlooking the fact that I kind of actually want this. You couldn’t possibly know that, of course, since you’re such a stupid freakin’ idiot that you think you’re not worthy of loving anyone, much less being loved. But that’s bullshit and I wish you knew that. We don’t really use the word like that; Sam and I, but we do love you, dude. You’re pretty damn important to us. To me, Cas. It’s just that for the past few months I’ve been too damn caught up in distracting myself from ever realizing just _how_ important you are to me.” Dean bites his lip as he pauses and Castiel guiltily catches himself locking his eyes on it. He closes his eyes instead and Dean seems to immediately catch up on the fact that his words aren’t currently succeeding in cheering Castiel up because he feels a brief stroke from his shoulder to his elbow and Dean’s hand is so warm through Castiel’s coat. Dean sighs a long sigh and continues. “I mean with the chicks and the booze and avoiding you and even talking shit to you... I’ve been handling everything so stupidly wrong it’s almost hilarious. You gotta believe me, Cas, when I tell you it was always just my ridiculous attempts to avoid ever thinking about somethin that’s been true for... I don’t even know _how_ long now. It distracted me so I didn’t have to come to terms with it. In the end I was just so goddamn afraid of what I felt that I drowned it all in all that shit, I was too much of a goddamn coward. And when I think about it I guess I also just conveniently chose to ignore the fact that I was hurting you with it. So... yeah, I’m sorry that it took me so long, Cas, but I think it’s about time I said this loud and clear to you, once and for all.” Dean finishes solemnly and his expression is something new to Castiel. It’s wistful and brimming with emotion in a way that he’s only ever seen in action when Dean looks at Sam. It’s directed at Castiel now and he can feel his vessel’s heart hammering so fast against its feeble ribcage it feels like it might burst. His breath is catching in his throat and there’s absolutely nothing that Castiel can conjure up that will sound even remotely intelligent. The world is moving around them, but somehow, this moment, and this place has become Castiel’s entire world.  


He feels a soft nudge against his chin again and he notices then that Dean was waiting for Castiel to look back up at him, but got impatient. Dean’s smile is fond and very soft. The corners of his eyes are crinkling pleasantly and his lips are turned upward in a lovely arc. The dark green in Dean’s eyes is practically glowing and Castiel is overwhelmed all over again by the sheer amount of love that he has for this man. His heart is swelling and his vessel feels heavy with love. The human just lets out a short, incredulous huff.  


“I’m really crazy about ya, Cas.” He whispers and tilts his head, still smiling.  


Castiel doesn’t say anything; he’s too frozen in place in a similar way as that dreadful night so long ago. Only this time it isn’t terror that is spreading in his stomach. He feels slightly ill, but it isn’t uncomfortable like last time, it’s more like his insides are twisting into each other and tingling, making Castiel feel as if he’s filled to the brim with cotton. His gaze doesn’t leave Dean’s, but nevertheless he is becoming hyper-aware of his unsteady hands and uneven breath. His vessel’s eyes are stinging again and Castiel briefly contemplates on fleeing again. This time, though, the intensity of Dean’s eyes on his keeps him locked in place.  


The angel doesn’t at all think about how long he just stands there, staring at Dean until the hunter’s expression starts to falter and he looks unsure with himself. He chuckles nervously. “Cas, now would be a great time for you to say something, y’know?”  


Castiel blinks slowly. Then a few times more. His mouth opens and closes, moves around the words he tries to form, tasting them on his tongue before changing his mind and keeping them behind his teeth. “Dean...” he manages and he thinks he might look pathetic if he looked at himself in a mirror. For once he doesn’t mind what he looks like in front of Dean. “I don’t—I...” but it isn’t working for him. He is an angel who possesses all the knowledge of the universe, has been alive for longer than any human can ever hope to comprehend. But despite it all this human man, the Righteous Man, manages to make an Angel of the Lord completely and utterly speechless with but a few words.  


Fortunately Dean seems to take the hint and laughs patiently, mirthfully and for the first time for so long the sound doesn’t rip at Castiel’s heartstrings, but instead sounds a bit like music to his ears. Castiel finds himself relaxing at Dean’s demeanour, though the words don’t come either way.  


“Hey Cas, now that I got all that crap off my chest, and you’re all stumped... if you promise you won’t get mad or freak out, do you mind if I try something?”  


Castiel shakes his head slowly, his expression mild now, the initial shock settling in his stomach as a light, constant fluttering.  


Dean’s eyes roam over Castiel’s face for a short moment before he lifts his hands towards the angel. Dean’s fingertips are light, only a soft brush of skin when they meet the rough, stubbled skin at Castiel’s jaw. They skim ever so lightly upwards. One hand smooths itself out on Castiel’s left cheek, the other roaming briefly into Castiel’s unruly hair before mirroring its partner on Castiel’s right cheek. A thumb strokes gently against one of Castiel’s cheekbones before his head is pulled forward. Dean bends his own head down a bit and tilts it just so as he presses his lips against Castiel’s. It’s tender and moist, only lasts for a few seconds before ending with a soft, wet smacking sound. Dean pulls back slowly, his eyes half-lidded and studying Castiel. His hands slip from Castiel’s cheeks to rest by his neck.  


A tentative finger pokes at Castiel’s own lips and he licks them to relish the taste that Dean left on them. He reaches a hand out to let a few of his fingers twist in Dean’s jacket. The corners of his lips twitch and he looks at Dean.  


“You kissed me.”  


Dean laughs loudly and both his voice and eyes are filled with emotion. Castiel cautiously allows himself to finally pinpoint it for once and it's so clearly unabashed adoration that Castiel wishes he'd known about it from the start.  


“Yeah, how ‘bout that?”  


This time Castiel smiles earnestly and Dean clearly enjoys Castiel’s smile as he returns it with a beam so big it nearly splits Dean’s face in two. “If you’re up for it we could try another one?”  


Dean doesn’t have to ask twice and Castiel doesn’t hesitate when he swiftly grabs Dean’s face and pulls it down for another kiss. It’s less hesitant and careful the second time, but it’s exactly as tender and affectionate as Castiel closes his eyes and indulges in the kiss while the emotions rage uncontrollably around in his head, for once ignored in favour of the moment. Dean reciprocates immediately, slips one hand up behind Castiel’s head and the other sneaks under his trench coat to wrap around the small of his waist and pulling the angel flush against him. This time it lasts much longer as Dean moves his mouth to press several small kisses to Castiel’s lips and the angel lifts his arms to wrap them around Dean’s neck, effectively dragging out the kiss further.  


Dean is slightly breathless when they pull back and while Castiel is not he is aware of his burning cheeks and half-lidded, dazed eyes. Dean smiles at him again, softly this time, and he has loved Castiel in return for so long, he can see it displayed so openly in Dean’s eyes now. Castiel finds himself completely awed and humbled by the velocity of the affection he finds in Dean’s eyes as the younger man looks at him with gleaming eyes.  


“I dunno about you, Cas, but I say we start gettin’ used to this. You with me?”  


Castiel just smiles and as the small stars in the night sky seem to twinkle brighter than ever he leans in again.  


\--

  


As an angel Castiel is knowledgeable and experienced. This doesn’t mean there aren’t things he can still learn, and as such he sucks up everything that Sam and Dean have to teach him. He proudly believes that his knowledge includes things far more important than the things his brethren know.  


He has now learnt about Dean’s clingy and very turbulent sleeping habits. He knows that there is almost nothing Dean enjoys more than having two strong, angelic thumbs methodically pressed into the flesh of his sore shoulders until he sags completely in his chair. He has learnt what Sam and Dean’s absolute favourite diners are, and he also knows that he adores the excited looks on the brothers’ faces when he brings them food from there. He has learnt about the concept of “shotgun” and he has taken an enjoyment to battling with Sam over the privilege. He knows that Dean likes his kisses very long and very handsy and that Castiel himself doesn’t mind that at all. He knows now that while love is indeed a double-edged sword it can be a blessing so divine that Castiel would go through all the suffering in the world if that was what it takes for him to get what he has now.  


Castiel’s head is resting heavily and comfortably in Dean’s lap, his trench coat draped over his curled up body and the muted sounds of the scratchy motel television almost, but not quite, drowning the soft sound of Sam’s fingers hitting away on his laptop keyboard and Castiel contently adds a few more things to his set of emotions as he feels his vessel start to doze off; peace, relief, happiness. And Castiel figures that perhaps it’s solely with the Winchesters that he will ever get to learn the most precious of emotions. Or rather, he knows this and Castiel can truly say that he would not want it any other way.


End file.
